


The Language of Love

by Ogress



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Humor, Language Kink, M/M, Sex, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27410740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ogress/pseuds/Ogress
Summary: Paz loves to hear Din's voice...
Relationships: Din Djarin/Paz Vizsla, din/paz
Comments: 15
Kudos: 227





	The Language of Love

One thing Paz had always admired about Din was his impressive grasp of languages. Paz himself knew quite a fair number of languages, all Mandalorians did; it helped them to survive in the vastly diverse galaxy. But Din had gone beyond requisite learning, he had picked up the dialect of many different cultures and species on his journeys, some languages most would not bother with. For such a quiet and reserved individual he had an aptitude for communication. This, among countless other skills, had certainly aided him in his tenure of beroya.

Yes, Din Djarin had much to be admired.

Though his well of dialect was deep, Paz most enjoyed to hear him speak Mando’a; as he was now, with the heavy Mandalorian gunner pinning him against the cold stone wall of the covert. Their ancestral language rolled off his tongue like the most beautiful poetry. It was almost nonsensical babble, but every word was perfectly pronounced in Din’s low growling voice. That voice Paz knew well, the way he spoke for only him to hear in these private moments, like an intimate secret. Even if he never came to know the man’s face, he would always know his voice.

He wanted to hear more.

As he thrust hard into the smaller man, driving his back plate to scrape noisily against the stone, Din swore in a language Paz did not understand.

“What was that?”

Din looked at him through the dark visor, “Easy,” he growled out, readjusting himself against the big man holding him up by the waist, legs wrapped firmly around the large beskar clad hips.

“No, the language, what was it?”

“It was...” he panted, squirming desperately in the big man’s hold, “it doesn’t matter, just move!” Paz obliged before going still again.

“Come on, I want to hear more of those linguistic skills.” The smaller man huffed in annoyance. “I want to hear you speak in every language you know as I bring you to climax,” Paz purred deeply next to his ear piece.

The smaller Mandalorian tried in vain to push down onto the large member inside of him, or up to feel the cool beskar on his tip, for any friction. Finally giving in he commanded, “Yatuka!” _Move_ , in a language Paz did understand. He rewarded this with a sharp thrust that made the smaller man gasp. He set a brutal pace as Din swore and pleaded in multiple languages.

“That’s it cyar’ika, let me hear you,” Paz rumbled against his helm, pressing close. “Mirdala, kotyc, mesh’la,” he praised, punctuating every word with a harsh snap of his hips, reveling in the sudden hitch of Din’s breath catching in his chest and cutting off his words.

He pulled back slow and Din gave a long moan of pleasure, legs tightening around his hips to pull him back in. Paz pushed into him, setting the pace fast, and then slow, keeping the flow of words spilling from the beautiful mouth he could not see, as Din held tight to the broad blue pauldrons.

They were close, he could feel the smaller man’s legs begin to tremble and he chased the feeling building inside.

He abruptly halted as Din let out a throaty bellow right next to his ear piece, followed by a series of grunts, an altogether ugly noise. Paz reared back in alarm and stared into the other man’s visor.

“What... was that?!”

Din cocked his head, “You said you wanted me to speak every language I know.”

“Was that Shyriiwook?”

“Tusken.” Din had spent much time among the Tuskens on Tatoine.

Paz chuckled, “I meant for you to use some more romantic languages.”

“The Tuskens find it pretty romantic.”

Paz knew Din was grinning beneath his helmet. “Do I want to know how you came to learn this particular expression?” Din just tilted his helmet in an incredulous manner and stared at him. “Well, that killed the mood, I’m not sure I can finish now.”

“You’d better!” He began to squirm again, tightening inside, and Paz felt his member twitch with renewed interest.

“Perhaps you should stick to Mando’a then,” Paz suggested.

“Elek, ner cyar’ika.”

There was no more romantic language than Mando’a.


End file.
